Honestly Dishonest
by GroggyRae
Summary: Jack Sparrow makes a deal with two castaways off the ravaged Venezuelan coast and soon the world becomes a bit less brighter as they come to realize no one is left untouched by war.
1. Another Woman

So here's the skinny… this is a joint fic between Sammich Coquette ( and GroggyRae, and Rae's first time at fanfiction instead of original fiction. Drop us a line and let us know what you all think. Muchas gracias. And if anyone knows Spanish well, please check this. You know how online dictionaries can be, and I (Rae) am still learning. Thanks again!

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Pirates of the Caribbean…blasted mouse!!

* * *

Jack Sparrow stood in silence, a thoughtful reverie that consumed him completely and left him an empty shell, devoting him to the exhausting task of pursuing a past and present that presented unimaginable challenges. The crew bustled around him excitedly, but he heard none of it; all he heard was the heady swish and whistle, the flap of the sails as they sang to his soul, fluttering erratically in the gusts of mid-day.

"Jack!"

The Captain's brown eyes slowly focused on Barbossa, his first mate's pale face echoing the edge in his voice as he hovered expectantly to his side; Jack closed his eyes, feeling the fog part around the reality and finally registering the full presence of another.

"What is it?"

"I think you should take a look at this…"

* * *

Despite all the mental preparation in the world, having seen the most disparaging, horrific, deplorable atrocities against the human race, none could prepare him for what he saw next.

The remnants of the massive schooner lay scattered ablaze in the water, the current sending crates and barrels, articles of clothing and other amenities sweeping against the _Pearl_ as she plowed further into the site. Jack grimaced despite himself, his mouth going dry; corpses now raked near, mutilated and battered beyond recognition. The blazing wood crackled and groaned, the ship apparently on its last leg as the mast pitched forward into the sea, crashing into several barrels of gunpowder that had until now managed to escape the fire. Explosions rocked those in close proximity, sending the water into a tumult, tossing the bodies like rag dolls. A second barrel detonated, sending chips of wood and debris flying aboard the _Pearl_; a voice cried out in the ensuing silence, a devastating sound that begged for aid.

Jack blanched.

The voice howled again, more desperate and obviously pained. Jack turned his back to the scene, attempting to turn a deaf ear to the call, to ignore the plea and continue to live his life as before. He had to continue.

Again and again the voice called out and again Jack fought it, reeling as he clutched for a handhold, his mind clouding over with the darkness that sob evoked and the nausea of the sights…the smells…

"Go!" he shouted, "Go search for survivors!"

"Captain!?" started Barbossa who, wide-eyed and clearly surprised by his superior's command, stood unmoving at the order while the other crew quickly made preparations for the long boat.

"You cannot be serious…"

"Do you refuse an order?" clipped Jack, glaring at the offender as he turned on his heel, closing in on Barbossa within a hair's breadth. The first mate matched his look, biting his tongue against the rush of angry words, curses and gripes, as well as a dozen dirty looks from the loyal wretches swearing devotion to Sparrow. Oh, how he desired such devotion and admiration – such power and control.

"Go!" shouted Jack again, his voice rising to a ferocious new note and barked order, the men busying themselves once more before they fell prey to their Captain's crooked and deviant vices and an almost child-like disposition and fierce temper.

Calmly drawing his spyglass from within the folds of his coat, Sparrow eyed the rescue from the scope, dismayed to see his men pulling two flailing and shouting bodies from the wreckage. One of the exhumed stood upright in the boat, punching and wrestling with one of the crew as they attempted to return to the _Pearl_. Jack swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

_Not another woman…_

Her dark hair was matted; clinging to her face, slick strands switching from cheek to cheek as she fiercely shook her head and growled at the crew.

"Liberais a el!"

Pintel and Ragetti were struggling to restrain her, trying as hard as they could within the constraints of the swaying longboat. Bootstrap was in another craft beside them holding a small boy whose appearance was similar to the girl's and who was fighting just as strongly as she was; his energy, however, was wasted in the face of Bootstrap's large arms.

The child was brought onto the deck first, his resistance fading quickly, only to be replaced by steadily rising whimpers. The Captain's attention was again drawn to the female, as screeching and yells of pain emitted by said creature resounded across the ship. His first mate quickly began in that direction, seeing the hard time she was giving. Just as he reached the row, Pintel was suddenly knocked to the ground by a wooden quarterstaff that seemed to have appeared out of thin air and in a complete stupor Ragetti loosened his grip on the girl, rewarded promptly by being swiftly socked in the stomach, propelling him backwards into the water below.

Barbossa reached for his cutlass, only to hear the distinct sound of unsheathing and the metallic sting of a blade against his neck. His gaze followed the blade to its handle, noting the lack of filigree and ornamentation on it, and continued up to glare at the wielder – none other than the drenched girl.

"Conoce que hacer" She sneered, rage barely controlled beneath her dripping face and smoldering eyes. His gaze narrowed and he allowed himself a once over, bathing her in his stare as he took in the appearance of the silly girl they happened upon. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost chocolate in their radiance and her hair was beginning to curl as the harsh sea air began to pick at the strands, lifting them out of the way of her flushed visage. Her skin was a delightful shade of bronze made resplendent by a light sheen of sweat and the moist kiss of the sea. He smirked, not doubting that her pleasant appearance only hid her tart persona, a sickly sweet warrior wrapped in the cocoon of a virgin.

"I wouldn't be doin' 'at, love," pronounced a smooth baritone; within the commotion the unsheathing of another sword was very much missed. The girl didn't even seem to notice its immediate closeness to her own nape.

"We don't react kindly to threats." The Captain here paused and glanced at his stunned crew, still in a daze over the current developments.

"Do we, gents?" he pursued again, baring his teeth in an inhibited grin, amused with how easily his band of miscreants had been intimidated. The men shook their heads like dogs, drawing their respective weapons and closing in on the menacing presence of the girl. Her eyes, slowly diverted from her quarry, redirected in a fleeting sideways glance at their leader. She scoffed, rolling her eyes as Jack's lips drew back from a confident smirk to an affronted pout. Had she just disregarded him? That wouldn't do at all. An attack on his crew he could understand – they were idiots after all – but an attack on his self image? Such abhorrence would not go unpunished.

Only beginning to take a step forward, he saw her recoil and he grinned at his apparent victory – until she pounced, pivoting on her right foot and turning as if to attack him, but only spinning the quarterstaff into Barbossa's face. The blow sent him flailing into the now twice-stunned crew. Not even acknowledging that she hit her mark, she focused again on Jack, slicing upwards towards his shoulder.

Jack danced out of the way of her well aimed blows, skirting around her and cornering her against the crew who brandished knives and all manner of distasteful weaponry as they closed in on the dangerous vixen. Jack continued to eye her as she parried and dodged various strikes. Though her lips maintained a stoic line, her eyes gave her away; inside them was the fear of someone who realized that they just might lose.

Jack signaled to his left, sword loosely gripped in his palm, not willing to underestimate this new arrival again. The captain's own chocolate eyes widened as a particular imbecile drew a gun and fired at the femme fatale, however, shock was just as quickly replaced with irritation, as said debutante reeled back in avoidance of the bullet, and the ship found a piece of lead gouged into its railing. The aforementioned crewmember gulped audibly seconds later, finding himself with a pistol cocked at his own head.

_That_ was not supposed to happen.

"I'll have you know that we did just pull her up from a watery grave and I am not especially looking to send her back there so quickly..." Jack's voice lacked any of the normal joviality that filled it, a discovery that sent a discomforted ripple through those gathered.

"…At least not yet."

The surrounding assemblage bore all types of hideous attempts at smiling, allowing the girl time to fully realize the precariousness of the situation, instincts kicking in as she slowly started backing away. Jack noticed her withdrawal as well and - suspiciously raising one elegant eyebrow, smirk returning with renewed fervor- pursued her like a shark, creeping closer to her even as she retreated further.

Her eyes were intensely fixed on his, trying to read him as much as he her, as she continued to back up until she bumped into something hard, warm and vaguely human. Before she even had time to utter a protest, two gargantuan arms had roughly seized her, crossing her arms over her body, thereby efficiently locking her in place. A large leg subsequently wedged itself between her own two; the man's foot appeared beside her right foot, completely inhibiting even the slightest movement.

"Now then, since we've decided t' calm down, love," Jack slurred out, regaining his composure, "mind tellin' me firs' why you attacked us, and secondly exactly what happened t' ye that made you go all…asinine and irrational." He had replaced his gun in his sash - removing it from the dejected wretch who first threatened its use - and confidently strutted up to her.

Barbossa chuckled darkly and a knowing smirk graced Jack's lips as he invaded her personal space, their noses practically touching as the crew grew rowdy with her mounting agitation. Her grimace became so dreadful it almost made Jack want to turn away.

Almost.

She had meant to hit Barbossa again, she really had, but the captain's attitude demanded he receive attention – and attention he received. With a flick of her wrist her quarterstaff was spun heavenward, knocking the Captain to the deck with a mighty strike to the jaw. Barbossa stepped forward, his cutlass cocked and aimed to kill, yet he ended up on the defensive as the Bo'sun's grip was upon her forearms, leaving her wrists and hands free. The first mate suddenly stopped moving, her blade nestling itself under the curve of his jaw. He swallowed, steely gray eyes consuming her soul in a look that would've sent the Devil in a run for his money. How did her weapons have so far a reach?

"It'd be'n yer best interests t'step down, missy."

Jack's groan brought her back to the drama – the crew had advanced close enough to count the hairs of her head, the force evoked by the Bo'sun's grip felt as though her limbs would snap under the sheer force. It was becoming difficult for her to breathe, her face twisting in distress, a scream threatening to erupt from within as she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood – hard enough to quell the frenzy whirling inside. Barbossa, in the meantime, had wrapped one hand around the edge of her quarterstaff, pulling it down and away from her person, still wary of the katana pressed to his flesh. She rasped a breath she never knew she had been holding as her sword began to shake in her grasp, her fingers growing slick with sweat as she looked down at her recovering victim, a satisfied smirk taking over her features upon the sight. Jack was sprawled on the deck, one hand propping him upright while the other poked and prodded his face, which, she noted with delight, had already begun to bruise.

Upon being hefted to his feet, Jack shouted something inaudible, carefully walking around the tense female lest his beautiful features suffer such an onslaught again. Peering cautiously around the Bo'sun's shoulder, he watched her intently as he caught it – her eyes shifting, albeit only for a second, to the right when he realized it: where was the little brat? He tilted his head curiously, straining to wrap his mind around this bizarre woman, around her savage actions since being rescued.

Jack moved from behind his human shield, her eyes on him like a hawk; clenching her katana tighter and struggling to steady it, she turned her head to fully to face him. Barbossa now seemed bored and set Jack a reproachful look. A slight exclamation later, Jack walked between the two and inserted his sabre between the oriental one and his crewman's jugular. Barbossa took one large step backward and, drawing as little attention as possible gingerly rubbed his neck. It had been many a year since anyone had gotten that close.

"Now then, where were we?" Jack coolly started, pausing and noticing the muscle between her shoulder and neck as it twitched before promptly adding, "wit'ou all the fuss." Nodding his silent command to the Bo'sun, the larger man uncrossed her arms and shook them until she dropped her munitions. Regarding him with a vicious scowl, particularly when he resumed her previous bondage, she twirled her wrists to loosen his grip as well as promote circulation, while the rest of the crew prayed she would not be released anytime soon.

"Firs' question…" Jack pretended to be unfazed by her heated countenance, sneaking a peek as she peered again to her right and then swiftly forward as she knocked her head back. Jack nodded emphatically in approval before turning to address his crew.

"Good news mates, she's onl' actin' like 'is because we're pirates."

Silence only met his enthusiastic revelation. Grunting and looking quite put-off he twisted back to his new captive, "And we got someone she cares about." he whispered just to her, grinning triumphantly at her apprehensive expression. Squinting intensely in the direction she had indicated seconds before, he prodded the deck, checking crates and containers – a whimper signaling his find, a small dirty hand scratching and punching the Captain's much larger hand as he hauled the boy bodily out of his hiding place and onto his feet. A man's dark head popped from the cargo hold a few feet away.

"Oh ye foun' 'im cap-"

"Mauricio!"

"Mauricio? What an interesting name…"

Jack ushered the boy, no older than seven, into the middle of the group. The family resemblance was unmistakable – the boy had his sister's same untamable hair, although shorter and much wilder as it poked out in all directions. Everything about them was virtually identical, from their tanned skin, to their facial structure. The one thing, however, that made him truly unique was his eyes: the child's eyes were a striking shade of green, electric and pulsing – a shade that reminded Jack of the healthy palms of Port Royal, vivid and alive as the eager rays of the sun lit them from all angles. His eyes flickered, showing every emotion, betraying the brave and haughty way in which the boy now attempted to present himself. Jack chuckled, taking a renewed interest in the girl as he was handed her katana.

"This is a fine weapon." He fingered the filigree laden hilt, enjoying the way his fingers slid effortlessly along the slick gold designs and textures; an action devised to incite agitation and ferocity, but only gave him disappointment as she remained stoic and unmoving to his attempts to vex her. He cocked his head as he watched her. Her breathing remained smooth and not even a muscle twitched; so much so was her puzzling serenity that even the Bo'sun had to see whether or not she was alive. He lowered his attentions, grinning beside himself; she may not have said a word, but her eyes were _screaming_.

"Ye don't strike me as a MOOn-TEegUU." Remarked Jack as he scanned the name engraved near the hilt of the blade. To his growing inconvenience and list of peeves he observed her unchanged stance and cursed his inability to coax a rise out of the female. Remarkable even to him was the fact that she held her head up, eyes glued to the heavens as she appeared to study the sails, lips pursed in a distasteful pout as they fluttered sonorously over the conversation's lull. Confident in the Bo'sun's infallible strength, Jack approached her, leaning close and pressing his lips to her ear as he stared officiously at the shining tendrils laced across her shoulder.

"I don't like to be ignored." He whispered brusquely, removing himself from her personal sphere almost as quickly as he had intruded, moving to lean casually against the railing as the Bo'sun drove her below to the brig with her crying brother in close suit. Jack turned back around, languidly gliding to the helm with his flourish of impossible balance, letting the strange sword slice the air as he swung it back and forth.

"Montego." announced a smooth, yet serious voice behind him. He swung back around, his curiosity demanded by the vixen herself as she craned her neck to look at him.

"Its name," she enunciated, each letter clear and fortified with complacency, "is Montego." she finished with impudence before being forcefully shoved below deck. A sharp glare, however, ended that harsh treatment.

"Careful wit' th' cargo, mates!" Jack beamed down to his men. Despite the amiable look, they knew the weight the words carried. By all definitions, a complete stranger and now a prisoner – female no less - had gained the Captain's respect.

After her head had disappeared past the stairs, Jack brought the blade again to his face for further inspection, lips parting in thought.

"Careful, indeed."

* * *

**Translations: **"Conoce que hacer" -- "You know what to do" "Liberais a el!" – "Release him!"

**Author's Note (groggyrae): **_And like I said before if anyone really knows Spanish and would like to help us out with this, feel free to do so. Reviewers will be given fried chicken, collard greens, cornbread, hamhocks, baked macaroni and cheese, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, and sweet potato pie. Oops sorry! That's what I'm going to be eating in Georgia this week. Hahaha, but seriously reviews would be greatly appreciated. Ta!_


	2. Accommodations

**Author's Note (SammichCoquette): **It's been a wild ride, peoples - that and a chapter change and some...ahem..._minor_ adjustments. That and I have to promise never to do a hostile takeover again...(sowwy, rae!) Anyhoo, without further ado...

**Disclaimer: **We do not own Disney's _Pirates of the Caribbean_...

* * *

Booted feet trampled raucously down the stairwell, ultimately depositing the party in a dimly lit compartment lined with barred cells. The girl was carelessly tossed into the nearest one, the door slammed and locked by the Bo'sun before she had a chance to object her "rag-doll" treatment. Warily she watched the man called Bootstrap as he carried her brother down the stairs, depositing him in the cell opposite her and then briefly glancing at the form of the Bo'sun as he locked the door. Despite the fact that he held his head down, she knew he could feel her austere glare and wasn't at all amazed when he surrendered to it; the sympathetic stint apparent in the lenient way in which he regarded her caused him to blush slightly at her firm look.

The transaction was cut short, however, as the first mate smugly approached her cell.

"You could've put him in here." she glowered at him.

"We weren't sure whether ye might use th' lil' 'un as a weapon." he leered eerily at her. She sulked for a second, wondering what had happened to her staff and what it would be like to strike the proud look off his face.

"An entire brigand of presumed men, terrified of a girl not even…" she looked Barbossa up and down distastefully, "…half their age." she finished triumphantly, causing the man's blue eyes to darken before he looked away.

"This is an intre'stin rod ye have 'ere missy." he stated, eyeing her now compact staff. "How do three small poles suddenly combine into one?"

Meanwhile, Mauricio stared silently and wide-eyed at the exchange taking place; Bootstrap looked back over at the boy and approached him.

"'S all righ' son." He whispered once he was sure the Bo'sun was out of range, "Yer sister?" he questioned, taking the time to carefully examine the small boy for signs of injury. He had a vicious-looking diagonal cut running from the middle of his forehead and over his right brow to a point near his hairline; the injury, in question, was laved in blood that still seeped, despite apparent attempts to smear it away. His hair was damp and the dark strands fell over his eyes, still eclectic in their hue. His clothes were thoroughly permeated by the sea as evidenced by the way in which they clung to him as he shuddered, his lips turning a faint shade of blue in the sodden cell. He noted also that the boy seemed to be pained at breathing, which he figured meant the child had broken a rib or two.

"The lil' lady seems t' have a way with words, that she does, and jus' migh'ta struck the captain's fancy." Continued Bootstrap in response to the boy's stiff nod. Returning his glance from Barbossa's banter, he realized that his attempts to sooth the boy had only alarmed him.

"His fancy?" the child squeaked, his eyes now wider than before and his mouth hanging open slightly. Bootstrap immediately realized the implication and was honestly shocked that a child already knew of such deviance. Of course, he could tell that Jack wasn't poised towards the girl in such a manner – or at least he thought so. One could never be sure with Jack and women, particularly those that desired to cause him bodily harm.

"No, nothin' like tha', jus'," Bootstrap stuttered, "He, uh, respects 'er."

"Then why are we locked up?"

Bootstrap sighed.

"Well you saw the lil' show yer siblin' put on earlier…" he trailed off. Mauricio shook his head.

"Oh 'at's righ'. Ye were puttin' on a show yerself." He feigned disapproval and frowned at the boy, leading Mauricio to turn away, trying to hide a smile and an accompanying blush.

"She jus' scared us is all," the older man continued gently. "Once we find out exactly what's going on, ye'll be out." he offered hopefully to the child's crestfallen look. "Okay, lad?" Green met blue as the boy raised his head, and while the frown remained, he made clear his silent approval.

"'At's a good lad." Bootstrap stood up from his crouched position. He smiled brightly, as the boy again nodded, accepting the compliment. His optimistic smile faded once more as he turned his attention to the girl. He had acknowledged her as a dangerous captive and it was times like these that made him glad he wasn't the one in charge.

Deciding he should really leave lest he suffer scorn for his sentimentality, Bootstrap reached out to ruffle the boy's hair, not expecting the hiss and surpassing shock as the boy drew away from his touch. Upon further inspection, he saw that a section of hair above his other eye was unusually rigid and sticky, causing him to tense, shifting uncomfortably in his skin – the boy's hair was stained crimson. Looking at Mauricio's face again, his emotions were raging, like a switch had been flipped; instead of curiosity or even apprehension, his was the look of one desperate to hide grave discomfort. Smiling grimly he approached the brig's other occupant to listen in on Barbossa's conversation with the girl.

"I'm truly shocked at this crew's deficiency in the knowledge of weapons." She boldly professed, "Why don't you ask your dunce of a captain?" she finished smugly, leaning her elbows upon the bars. She glanced at Bootstrap as he loomed behind the first-mate, following his wayward glance to where he was now staring – her poorly bandaged hands. Barbossa himself was now peering as well, which only added to her highly unnerved state.

"Don't tell me you haven't seen blood before either?" she quipped, smoldering brown eyes attempting to sear cool baby blues, succeeding only in chilling them further with the press of a barrel against a dripping chin. Barbossa again glanced at her hands as they slowly descended to hang against her sides, the pistol still engaged with her skin even as she surrendered. He smiled, yellow teeth glinting dully in the nominal light that crept through cracked boards and porthole. Sofia returned the gesture, full lips turned down in disgust and drawing lines on features too young to have them.

"I could well remove ye' of the rest o' ye' injured limbs, miss. It'd be a delightful learn'n experience." He breathed onto her face, determined to get a response but only causing her frown to deepen with the rank odor.

"The only reason ye're 'ere is because we happened t' be passin' by. Any other ship would've continued t' pass by, so if I were ye I wouldn't b' bitin' at a group o' marauders such as ourselves, understand?" He leered at her one last time before withdrawing his weapon and tucking it into his vest, "Th' captain will b' down t' see ye'." He spat, glaring at Bootstrap as he ascended the stairs, a mumble about Jack and his broads accompanying the heavy footfalls to the top deck.

Despite the baleful look she was shooting his way, the gentler man reluctantly moved closer to the vixen, observing how her hands clenched beside her body, pulling the skin taut against her abused knuckles, her body a rigid line as her spine straightened. He idly wondered if her skin had torn from that repeated determined stance.

Slightly cocking her head to the side she examined the peculiar pirate – though his peculiarity had nothing on his estranged captain; his eyes had shifted, a vacant and unreadable expression suddenly taking over as he shuffled yet closer. He had a kind, humble look about him. His shoulder-length onyx hair was loosely pulled back, strands that had managed to elude the clasp framing his sculpted face, with its long, narrow nose and high forehead. His crystal blue orbs offered comfort merely in that they weren't nearly as condescending as his comrade's. Her posture relaxed at his calm demeanor and, perhaps somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she took what the first mate had said to heart. She _could_ be civil with her 'saviors,' as long as the first mate wasn't one of them. Apology was out of the question.

"Que es su nombre?" she petitioned in her native tongue, attempting to cool herself down even as she continued to watch him circumspectly, looking for more signs that separated him from the other brutes she had encountered on the deck above.

_Like that incorrigible Captain…_

"Que hablaste a mi hermanito?" at her own question she peeked into her brother's cell, nearly doubling over at his crumpled position on the ground. Forgetting the man for the moment, she skirted along the floor of her own cell, desperate to be as close as possible to the boy.

"Mauricio! Mauricio!" she frantically repeated his name, practically clawing at the bars of her prison and urging within Bootstrap a deplorable new awareness he all but ignored, sadly shaking his head and continuing on his way up the stairs. She clenched the bars tighter, however, pink beginning to stain the dingy white of her meager bandages as the panic closed in upon hearing her brother's pitiful moan.

"Sofia…"

"Si, que lo pasa?" her voice came out harsh as every muscle in her body contracted, every nerve ending split on poignant, raw pain.

"No se…"

"No vas dormir!" she cried, irritated by his tired voice and not caring whether or not her own was reassuring.

"Que hacimos?" he asked, uncertainty lacing his voice. Sofia bit her lip and remained silent, telling herself she would under no circumstances lie to him even though she could practically see his tears across the dark expanse of the brig.

"We're going to be alright."

* * *

**Translations: **"_Que hablaste a mi hermanito?" What did you say to my brother? _

"_Si, que lo pasa?" Yes, what's wrong with you?_

"_No vas dormir!" Don't you go to sleep!_

"_Que hacimos?" What are we going to do?_

**Author's Note (GroggyRae): **Okay so the second chapter is up. It's short but both of us have been on vacation. But there is much to be revealed….

To Qualerei: Thanks for dropping a line. Really appreciated. I just may try to write like this more often. And your Pirates story is so cool.. I love One Piece and you have the best characters meeting Jack. Oh the tails that will be whipped….

'Til next time.


	3. Heirlooms and Hostiles

Meh… as most things go with Rae- who has a short attention span- this story was forgotten. I can't speak for Syrup back there. Oh separate names now, though this is still somewhat a joint fic. We're just kinda working on it in our spare time. Which isn't often. So um, reposter chapter three and as always food begets those that review. Virtual food that is. Ta! oh and disclaimer: Pirates is too brilliant even for me

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Chapter 3 Don't Know What to Think

"What d' ye think?"

Jack looked up from the table to his first-mate, where they had been examining the weapon their little visitor had called "Montego" with renewed interest. Jack remained silent for a moment, tilting the katana a scant bit so the light that poured in through the bay windows glinted off the blade in a flicker of honed steel. Sighing, he reverently laid the blade back onto the table top.

"I don' righ'ly know what t' think." He whispered as he turned his back to the blade, "It doesn't make any sense."

"Aye. There be a lot at stake lettin' them stay."

"Could it be a fam'ly crest?"

Barbossa offered a sour frown as he reached for the katana, "It could," replied he, lightly tossing the blade between his hands, thrusting at an invisible opponent with open stabs, "But I doubt it." He glanced down at Jack, who seemed to be in his own little world.

"Woul' it matter anyway?" he grinned.

Snatching the long sword away from Barbossa, Jack returned it to the locker, fastening it securely with one of his many keys before nonchalantly strolling past his first-mate and into the warmth of the sun outside.

"Jus' fer th' record _sir_" Barbossa smirked at Jack's back, "tha' really didn' solve anythin'."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Jack turned on his heels to scowl at Barbossa, asserting to refute his claim and shoot down his skepticism with whatever hazy logic he had left. He had to confess that he was in the dark as to how to proceed under these circumstances, however discomfiting and peculiar they may be. He also had to admit that he was quite unaccustomed to dealing with the antagonistic – especially the damsel who was now imprisoned in his brig. Normally under any other occurrences of this particular incident, that is when he was forced to contend or negotiate with such an individual, matters could hastily come to a consonance – usually with a few stabs of a sword.

"I'll talk t' 'er tonight." Affirmed Jack in a disinterested tone, picking an illusory piece of lint from his coat sleeve as he stood by, hands on his cocked hips as he allowed his mind to wander – back to that ill-begotten wretch and her miserable sibling. That boy had almost ripped his fingers off! He clutched his right hand to his chest at the memory, the sting of the encounter still very much alive in his mind; yes, something definitely had to be done, but he was none too eager to determine what. Brooding over his options, Jack decided to dismiss the nagging signal of foreboding woe and, going against all better judgment, elected to sit down to dinner with the woman, uncontrolled and in complete control of her faculties. He also decided that it would probably be best if he wore something to protect his head, as well as his other more prone appendages.

" 'Scuse me, cap'n?" inquired Barbossa, confused and slightly alarmed by the distantly glazed look in the Captain's eyes.

"I'll talk t' 'er tonight…At dinner." He shook his head, jolting his mind of all things "that girl" and "that wench," nonsensically waving one jeweled hand at his first-mate as he strode off in the direction of the galley, "Jus' make sure she 'as nice clothes."


	4. Only Jack

Again disclaimer- I(Rae) own nothing but an overgrown cat. Syrup has three and a hyperactive dog.

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Chapter 4 Only Jack 

"Ye can't really b' thinkin' o' keepin' her aboard…" drawled Barbossa's indignant voice once more.

"Las' I recall, _I _was the Captain," Jack replied pointedly, stopping in his tracks long enough to shake a grubby, bejeweled finger at his first mate, "and no one 'as come up with a way t' keep one from thinkin' anythin'."

"Aye, Cap'n. 'T hasn't been discovered yet." Barbossa frowned in grudging submission; he would know that better than anyone.

"Course I'm right. And 'ow are we supposed t' find out what happened if we kill th' only survivors, eh?" The older man's irritated look revealed deep-seated condemnation of the younger's cocky attitude.

Sending him a sidelong glance and lopsided grin, Jack challenged, "Tell me I'm wrong then, mate."

Barbossa grunted as he rolled his eyes. How in the world this boy had come to possess such a fine ship and had acquired enough knowledge to keep her afloat was utterly beyond him; no wonder they had so many enemies! His attention focused back on the captain as said leader graciously reiterated his position of correctness.

"Thought so." He smugly and needlessly stated, setting a Cheshire cat-like grin upon his crewman as he produced a bottle of rum, suggestively nodding it in the man's direction. Grunting once more, Barbossa accepted, taking a large swig of the dark liquid.

"Nevermind it all, Hector," Barbossa choked on his drink here as Jack casually continued his speech, "s' long as she doesn't do anythin' too stupid – like burn th' rum – I don't see 'er as much of a threat anymore. Besides…" Jack leaned forward to grab the bottle back, Barbossa relinquishing the drink to wipe his mouth on a dirty sleeve, "from what ye' told me about the brig, I can work 'er."

Barbossa smirked knowingly, a lewd look that caused Jack to sputter against the swill he'd taken.

"Work eh?"

"She's a pris'ner, mate." He eyed his first-mate dubiously, "that be as bad as…" he fumbled for words, twirling his hand pensively, "I don't know, but it would definitely be bad."

"Pirates…?"

"Yes, well…" Jack once more struggled with the truth of Barbossa's words, "That's not how I want t' get me reputation," another swig, "Not yet anyway."

One side of Barbossa's face twisted up in disbelief at the impish smirk that had overtaken his superior's lips. He wondered often about Jack and he had ample right to; the boy had all but dropped out of the sky. Being under the command of Jack Sparrow had left him aggravated and even more convinced that _Captain _Jack Sparrow wasn't fit to lead his own self out of a paper bag.

The thundering shot of a cannon echoed loudly in the immediate area and Jack looked off to the side of the ship. Of course not paying any mind to the crewmember directly in front of his feet, scrubbing the deck. Continuing to walk whilst staring off into the distance he promptly tripped over the man, who sat bewildered that his captain had not acknowledged him. Jack rolled into a somersault, and swiftly stood up, turning back to face his first-mate and the crew that had witnessed his fumble, officially ending the tense moment between first-mate and superior along with Barbossa's hearty laugh, and a wincing crew. Dusting himself off, Jack slowly straightened himself, furrowing his brow as he cast a shaky, disappointed glance at the dripping remnant of the bottle-neck clenched in his hand.

Across the deck another commotion caught his short attention. Bootstrap, all around not looking very much like his normal gentle self, stood over the galley threshold holding another crewmember by the scruff of the neck. Jack frowned deeply, again failing to look his age- whatever that was. His first mate didn't look any better, in fact quite disgruntled at the approaching commotion.

"Do I e'en wan' t' know?" he asked aloud.

" 'Course ye do mate" Jack replied automatically. "If somevin's got 'ol Bill worked up, it mus' be" here he grandly gesticulated grasping at an object in the air, "well, somevin" he finished simply, looking at Barbossa with a 'clearly discernable' expression. Barbossa sneered as his captain walked toward the wrestling men. If it involved Bootstrap, odds were it had to do with the nonexistent morals of pirates. Groaning under his breath, he followed his superior's lead.

"An' wha' seems t' be th' problem mates?" Jack asked even as Bootstrap struggled to maintain a hold on the man.

"The resident _surgeon_ 'fuses to treat the pris'ners, sir" Bootstrap supplied disgusted, tightening his grip around the dirty man's collar.

" 'E's off 'is rocker cap'n!" the man screeched glaring at his captor. "Why shoulds I bandage them up for?" Bootstrap's lips creased together even more. The captain noticed his friend's insistence upon the matter. He had no choice but to take Bootstrap's side. The man sulked when he didn't get what he wanted, and made for a horrible drinking partner.

"It disposes you that much to fix the tots up?" Jack questioned the man, who stared blankly at him in response.

"Methinks, ye mean 'indisposes' cap'n" Barbossa offered from his place behind Jack, hands tucked at his back, eyes scanning the water. Jack was silent a moment as his mildly inebriated, and entirely overworked brain fought to comprehend his first-mate's meaning.

"Ah yes!" he corrected himself, "So doing so would entirely inconvinience you?" he again asked the surgeon.

"Well, I was headin' t' get meself a drink, when 'is barmy cur decided I _had _t' patch up thems below" he explained with a nod in Bootstrap's direction. Jack nodded his head emphatically with every word the man spoke.

"What say you t' havin' two victuals today, ifin ye help out our lil' friends in th' brig" Jack proposed.

The man immediately loosened himself from the death-grip upon his person.

"Fer 'at now, I don' mind, but 'm not goin' wheres near that wench."

"No worries then," Jack waved the man dismisively, "I need t' talk wit' 'er anyway. The surgeon inclined his head slightly and proceeded below deck. Bootstrap glanced at Jack reproachfully.

" 'E should've been willin' t' do tha' nonetheless" he said in an undertone.

"Probably, but let's not forget that most 'o the men 'ere haven' been shown any type of kindness as we were mate" Jack's voice dropped as he stood beside his long-time companion. He glanced at Barbossa still standing stoically, gazing out to sea.

"Pirates mate" Jack heartily clapped Bootstrap on the back, " no' exactly the British navy, eh?" he laughed walking back to Barbossa, while Bootstrap returned to his previous station.

"I highl' doubt e'en the navy 'ould be daft enough to take on a coupla' foreigners beneath the Spanish crown, Jack" Barbossa stated plainly, still gazing out at the sea.

"See anythin' warrantin' attention, ay?" he asked the stolid man, ignoring the insult for the time being.

"Th' wreckage of a once efficient trading vessel, wouldn' say merchant, no' enough embroidery" he smirked at the younger man, who in turn mimicked the action. "An' land 's still close t' a league off…"

"So we're lookin' fer another ship in close proximity-"

"Countin' tha' we coul' hear it fire it's cannon" he eyed Jack pointedly. Jack nodded in thought.

"Get the guns loaded, weigh anchor, and have the men prepared for an attack" he stated decisively, without mirth. "I _want to know _exactly what's going on here."

"Aye sir." Jack didn't acknowledge the affirmative. There would be a lot of rum to pay if his orders were not followed. He began making his way to the steps, trailing the earlier crewmate, humming to himself.

"Tall and tan and lovely, the girl from Ipanema..."


	5. Captain, Oh My Captain

**Author's Note: **REVISED - by mistressofSyrup (the author formerly known as SammichCoquette) and GroggyRae. w00t!

Oh, and Syrup says REVIEW! There will be cookies...and ICE CREAM:-)

GroggyRae: "Yeah, cookies, best plan ever, yeeaah!" (for those who have seen the magnificence that is Avatar: Abridged by ganxingba on youtube)

**Disclaimer:** If we owned this, we wouldn't even have to go to school. 

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Tears stubbornly fell through thick, dark lashes sharing their reflective pain with choked sobs. 

"Quit ye're bellyachin' ye blasted..." the begrudging surgeon spat at the sniffling Mauricio.

"Finish that sentence and you'll be missing your own belly." Sofia said coldly level, "That's not a threat, it's a promise" she finished just as calmly. The man's mouth snapped shut. The child continued to whimper under the man's less than gentle ministrations. He at last tied a small tight knot for the bandages across the boy's torso, then slowly helped him to sit up. Mauricio's bottom lip trembled and he quickly sucked it in, trying to preserve some of his dignity in front of the stranger. The man locked eyes with the child, and his furrowed brows slowly relaxed into as much of a sympathetic expression as a scallywag could allow. 

"Listen, lil'un, ye need t' not be movin's'much, though I dou' th' cap'n 'll let ye." his voice gradually softened as he spoke, wide, tearful eyes silently persuading him. "Bu' I'll get ye somethin' t' res' yer back on." At the boy's incredulous expression, he continued, "Esta bien?" The addressed stiffly nodded. The surgeon leant his charge upon the wall of his cell and swiftly exited, not desiring any confrontations with the laconically quiet vixen. Her dark gaze followed him up the stairs, then trailed back to her sibling. 

"So -"

"Don't!" Her shout startled the boy. "Don't talk, don't move, don't do anything." her voice was so choked, Mauricio couldn't find it in himself to respond. Silence overwhelmed the two for some moments.

"Lo siento."

"Que di -" she inhaled a breath, "What did I just say?"

Mauricio answered with a dull look. Sofia smirked.

"Forget it. You've nothing to be sorry about..." she fixed him with a glare as he made to open his mouth again, "It's not our fault, it's that stupid captain."

"Pardon me, madam, but I do rather prefer it when people talk about me t' my face." two pairs of eyes fixed upon Jack,´he captain's words entangled within his golden grin as he acknowledged the wry young surgeon's presence at his back. With a nod from his superior, Jedidiah reentered the boy's cell with a blanket, propping him comfortably upright.

"Now then," Jack sauntered to Sofia's compartment and directly into her face, "where were we love?"

"I wasn't talking about you, though I'm sure you fit into that category as well." Jack frowned.

"Not used to being wrong, Captain? Don't worry, that will pass."

"T' get t' th' point missy, you will be joinin' me for dinner." Jack snidely remarked, uninterested in her response as he turned his whole intentness to the abundant grime beneath his nails. Her lips drew back in a repressed yip, but just as she was about to gnaw him to pieces, he°resumptuously£ut her off with¡ sharp breath.

"And that's not a request, 'specially if you want t' get those knuckles treated." he glanced pointedly down at her hands, an uncomfortable cessation of his focus that impeled her to shrink back, pressing her hands into the crooks of her elbows.

"Oh, good then." Jack smiled, a brief overripe expression before he turned back to the stairs. "M'first mate will bring you a dress..." he called over his shoulder, trotting over to the boy's cage and slamming the door shut, "Oh, and Jed? You'll be stayin' th'night with your charge." 

The physician's eyes lit up, jostling his patient when he leapt to his feet.

"WHAT? Cap'n, ye can't b' serious!" 

"Oh, but I am." he dismissed the man's outburst, fumbling with his giant ring of keys. He exclaimed at finding the right one and locked the door. Jedidiah gaped at´he captain's actions and his fingers hung limply around the bars. Jack swaggered away, completely satisfied with himself, humming the same tune as before. Sofia glared at him as he walked past.

"I'm from Venezuela, not Ipanema you idiot!" 

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Translations:

_"Lo siento." _- "I'm sorry."

"_Esta bien?" _- "Is it okay?"


End file.
